


You must look back with wonder now to the days when you had my entire life in your hands.

by MiserableLie95



Category: Morrissey (Musician), The Smiths
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:24:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8620837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiserableLie95/pseuds/MiserableLie95
Summary: Johnny meets Morrissey at his hotel room in California, 1991.





	1. Chapter 1

\- “There’s a John Maher here in reception who says you’re expecting him… I’m very sorry, I was told that you are not to be disturbed under any circumstances, but my manager isn’t here yet and he insists that I call you before having him removed by security.”

“Oh, is that so?” Morrissey asked, rubbing his eyes. 

The concierge faltered, her voice raising nervously. “I’m very sorry, Mr. Morrissey, but what would you like me to tell him?” 

“Send him up,” Morrissey laughed.

He set down the phone and ran his fingers through his hair, sitting up in bed. The alarm clock on the nightstand read that it was half past six am. By the time he had brushed his teeth and put on a bathrobe, Johnny knocked on the door. 

Johnny tried to compose himself slightly, standing in front of the door with a conspicuous glance down the hall, attempting to take on the appearance of someone who is used to to remaining unseen. He hoisted his bag a little higher on his shoulder, and switched his weight from one foot to another.  
Morrissey opened the door just to have Johnny quickly slide by him into the room, leaving Morrissey with a view of the blank wall across the hall. Shaking his head slightly, Morrissey locked the door, and returned to bed, watching Johnny deposit his bag on the armchair. 

“Sorry for waking you, Mozzer,” Johnny smiled, rummaging through his luggage. 

“How on earth did you find me here?” Morrissey asked. 

“You think you’re the only one who keeps tabs? I’ve got all your pseudonyms, love.”

“You’re not who I’m trying to hide from,” Morrissey laughed. 

“Not yet,” Johnny replied gruffly. He straightened up, having retrieved a small bag from his luggage and took off his coat, his eyes moving over Morrissey’s tired figure fondly. It was worth it to have taken the red-eye from New York to see Morrissey half-awake. 

“I’ve got to shower, but after that, I’m not leaving your bed. The world is wicked and demanding and I’d like no part in it for a while.” 

“Shall I order you breakfast?” Morrissey asked. He ran his tongue over the corner of his lip thoughtfully as Johnny came over by the bed. It was the first time in several months that they had been in the same room. 

“Please do”, Johnny smiled. He ran his fingers through Morrissey’s sleep-tousled hair, then moved his hand along the singer’s jawline slowly. 

“I’ll be right back”, he said quietly. 

Morrissey ordered breakfast for the two of them and laid back against the pillows again, letting his eyes close as a smile washed over his face at the sound of Johnny turning on the shower. Johnny had left, of course, years ago, but he always did return. He tried not to think about when the guitarist no longer would, and that way, the two of them always fell back into place. 

Johnny returned, his hair already toweled dry, just as Morrissey accepted breakfast from the bellboy. Morrissey paid and tipped handsomely, setting the tray on the bedside table as Johnny sank into the bed. 

“Incredible. You always have a way of finding hotels with the nicest beds.” 

“It’s simply a matter of how much you’re willing to pay,” Morrissey answered, pouring the tea. 

“And how much is that, exactly?” Johnny raised his eyebrows. 

“You wouldn’t want me to tell you everything. Where would the fun be in that?” 

Johnny chose not to comment then, selecting a croissant from the spread before them. Morrissey thought it rather wise. There was plenty that Johnny hid from him, so he could do the same. Besides, it would do no good to remind Johnny of how his breaking up of The Smiths had given Morrissey such financial success with his solo career. 

“You’ve not decided on a new hairstyle, I see,” Morrissey commented. 

Johnny laughed, running his fingers through his closely cropped hair. “I don’t have the time," he said. 

“No time to cultivate your aesthetic? Dear god, what have you done with Johnny Marr?” 

Johnny rolled his eyes, looking up at the ceiling in mock wonder. “I’ve been working… Lots of writing, studio time… Traveling back and forth. Right when I think I’ve got a chance to relax, there’s something else. Lately… Even being at home is a task,” he admitted.

Morrissey furrowed his eyebrows, propping himself up on his elbow. Johnny looked away, reaching to spread jam on another croissant. He shouldn’t have mentioned that bit, probably not, but he didn’t have anyone else to confide such a thing in. No one else would be able to understand. 

“Is Angie making you do dishes again?” Morrissey teased. 

“We’ve… Started trying to have kids,” Johnny said dryly, looking somewhere over Morrissey’s head. 

“So you’re complaining about having more sex? That doesn’t sound like Johnny Marr at all,” Morrissey said in a muted tone. He took another sip of tea to hide the look on his face. It shouldn’t be shocking. Marriage and children had always been important to Johnny. It just seemed to come up faster than he expected. 

“Well, that’s part of it,” Johnny agreed, rubbing his hand over his face. “I’ve just not felt like myself. I’m tired. I’m so tired of everything going on. It used to be easy. I miss it, you know? I miss how things used to be.” 

“It wasn’t easy then either,” Morrissey reminded him. 

“Even the bad days didn’t feel like this…” Johnny replied. “Do I want to keep working this way? Would I have to sacrifice it for children? Could I want to bring children into this lifestyle, always being away, working odd hours? How can I continue jumping from project to project when I should be settling down with children? I don’t know. I don’t. Ang makes it sound so simple, but I can’t get over it.” 

He clenched his teeth and looked over at Morrissey, who had his face completely free of any emotion. Johnny felt immediate guilt at the expression on Morrissey’s face. Johnny’s desire for marriage and children, even in the years of The Smiths before Johnny and Angie had committed their lives to each other, had always been at the forefront. It was one of the main reasons he had told Morrissey that they could never truly be together. Morrissey looked down at his teacup to escape Johnny’s pity-laden gaze, trying to push his emotions down, as he had learned to do when such topics arose. 

“I’ve always been able to escape with you… I’ve been remembering so much of it lately. All that time spent in the back of the bus… Driving around… Writing the songs…Being with one another, all those hours and days in bed… For someone so uninterested in escapism, you’ve given me a break from everything in the world, for so long. I can never forget. All those moments replay in my mind,” Johnny explained, saving Morrissey from having to make a comment on his slight tirade. 

“Some, more pertinently than others,” Morrissey smiled suggestively, tilting his head back against the pillow. 

Johnny grinned, setting down his teacup. “I’ve been dreaming about us fucking,” Johnny laughed. “I swear… I don’t know why, it’s happened twice this past week. I wake up with this incredible hard on… And I think about calling you… I think just hearing your voice could get me off at that point.” 

“I don’t believe that,” Morrissey spluttered, laughing. 

“It’s true,” Johnny muttered. 

He swung one of his legs over Morrissey’s hip, straddling him, burying his face against the singer’s shoulder. “I nearly reach for the phone, but I figure you’ll be doing a gig… Or sleeping… I do keep up, you know. I can’t help it,” he said. 

“Well, go on and call next time. I might just answer the phone,” Morrissey assured him. He ran his hand along Johnny’s back. “I’m happy you’ve been thinking of me,” he finished quietly. 

Morrissey watched with detached calm, something he had mastered in the years since Johnny had left, feeling Johnny’s heartbeat race as he leaned in and kissed him. Johnny breathed in shakily as he moved away, his throat thick with emotion. He eased the fabric of Morrissey’s bathrobe off his shoulders and trailed his fingers along the singer’s upper body. 

“Some things do change,” Johnny said softly, almost to himself, skimming his fingers over the hair that led down Morrissey’s torso. 

“Are you trying to tell me I’ve put on weight?” Morrissey asked, sitting up slightly. 

“You are looking rather fit,” Johnny commented.

He kissed Morrissey’s neck, moving his lips across his collarbone softly. He covered his shoulders and his chest with kisses, as focused and loving as ever. Morrissey combed his fingers through Johnny’s short hair, watching him. 

Things had changed, yes, but most aspects of his life remained the same. He was very, very much alone. Such intense loneliness was not new to him, but trying to deal with his emotions, the expectations of others, and complete exhaustion while being surrounded by so many people that he could not avoid was indeed a difficult concept. He had booked a bit of time off between shows specifically for this reason, which, perhaps, was why Johnny had known to come round. Could he tell Johnny how lonely he was? How much he missed his company? He wouldn’t have, years ago, but things had changed. It was impossible to deny. 

Morrissey took a deep breath and guided Johnny by his side, wrapping his arms around the slighter man. He tucked his face into Johnny’s neck and closed his eyes. 

“I need this,” Morrissey whispered.

He hugged Johnny tightly, their bodies as close as possible. Johnny swallowed, looking at the wall behind Morrissey. There were things that still could not be spoken about, he figured. He moved his hands along Morrissey’s back, trying not to kiss him again as he felt Morrissey lean into his touch, their bodies so used to coming together. 

“I missed you, Moz,” Johnny said. 

“I missed you too,” Morrissey said softly. 

Johnny expected him to lean back so they could kiss, but Morrissey pressed his forehead against his shoulder, taking another deep breath, and said nothing more. Johnny listened to his breathing even out after a while, and stared at the wall until he could get his mind to quiet enough for him to fall asleep too. 

When Morrissey woke up again, Johnny’s body was still nestled against his own. His breathing was even, finally calm, and he had intertwined their bodies further in sleep. His head rested on Morrissey’s shoulder, limbs tangled together to keep them close. Morrissey craned his neck and kissed the top of Johnny’s head, smelling his own soap on Johnny’s hair. Johnny breathed in deeply, hugging his arms more tightly around the singer. 

“You’re nice and warm,” Johnny mumbled, burying his face against Morrissey’s neck.

“I’ve been leeching your body heat,” Morrissey retorted. 

“Take whatever you like, love,” Johnny sighed. 

“Have you not been sleeping well?” Morrissey asked. He rubbed his hand along Johnny’s back. It felt like it could’ve been any year from when they were in The Smiths, waking up together; slow, quiet, and undeniably intimate. Johnny was silent for a moment, closing his eyes again. 

“No, not well and not nearly enough,” Johnny yawned.

“I know the feeling,” Morrissey replied grimly. 

Johnny kissed his neck and then leaned away so he could look up at Morrissey. He put his hand on Morrissey’s chest, running his fingers along the hair on his sternum. “You must… You’ve been quite busy in recent months,” Johnny noted. 

“Can you tell I’m nearly 32?” Morrissey asked, arching an eyebrow. 

“No,” Johnny smiled. “I just wondered how you’ve been getting on with everything.” 

“I’ve had no choice but to get on with everything,” Morrissey laughed.

He was quiet for a moment, trying to decide what to say. He knew that it was difficult for Johnny to ask him these questions, so he tried to be serious with his answer. “It’s… Different, of course,” he said. “I’ve resolved to the fact that it won’t feel like it used to… That I’ve set out on my own, as it were…” 

“And you’re doing extremely well on your own, as I predicted,” Johnny replied. It was not a matter of pride, acknowledging Morrissey’s success. It was what he wanted for his former song-writing partner. Yet it didn’t stop him from wondering if he had met his personal peak in his time with The Smiths. 

“Johnny,” Morrissey sighed. “You know I didn’t want this. I’d trade this solo thing for The Smiths in a heartbeat.” 

“You don’t have to say that,” Johnny laughed. 

“It’s true. I didn’t want to do this alone. I never believed I’d be able to.” 

“Well, I’ve believed in you since I met you, and look how you’ve proved me right,” Johnny said. “I’m proud, Moz. I’m proud to have knocked on your mum’s door that day, and to have been in a group with you.” 

“People must curse your name… For unleashing me into the world,” Morrissey smiled. 

“For many reasons, I’m sure,” Johnny laughed. 

The two spent the afternoon talking, falling back into familiar patterns of conversation, enjoying one another’s company. The time went by too quickly, and soon the light was disappearing behind the curtains. Johnny ordered dinner up from room service for the both of them, and they watched the news on mute while they ate, joking and providing commentary during the lulls in conversation. Around eight, Johnny made the executive decision to call down for alcohol. 

“Do you want red wine?” Johnny asked as he dialed, watching Morrissey get up to draw water for a bath. 

“Gin,” Morrissey said decisively. “And a bit of tonic.” He leaned against the counter of the vanity and watched the tub fill with water, smiling at the way Johnny was gaping at him from the edge of the bed. 

“Gin?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows. 

Morrissey nodded and licked his lips. “I quite like gin lately,” he offered. 

“Right,” Johnny concluded, nodding his head. He kept his comments to himself, and got a bottle for each of them. The singer could afford these sort of nights whenever he wanted, but he rarely bothered with it. 

Morrissey was in the bath, his head resting against the porcelain tub comfortably, when Johnny came in with the drinks. “I’m definitely not looking,” Johnny laughed, handing over Morrissey’s glass. Morrissey smiled and turned his face away bashfully, sinking further underneath the bubbly water. Johnny moved his eyes over him slowly, enjoying the opportunity to make the singer blush. 

“Don’t stay in there too long,” Johnny said over his shoulder as he went back into the room. “It can get a bit dangerous, bathing and drinking gin alone.” 

Morrissey shook his head and took his time to relax. When he got out, his skin was soft and pink. He put on a pair of shorts and toweled his hair dry, running his fingers through it as he handed his empty glass to Johnny for a refill. Johnny had his legs crossed in front of him up on the desk, watching the tv idly. His eyes followed Morrissey around the room, and he smiled as he poured the next drinks, getting up to join Morrissey on the bed.

He placed the drinks on the bedside table and kneeled next to Morrissey, moving his hand along his thigh. He was buzzing with nervous energy and long-repressed emotions and desires, and he just wanted to have Morrissey laughing and kissing him and making him feel good again. He decided to start things slow, because it had been some time since they were together last, and skimmed his fingers over the singer’s thighs. 

Morrissey took a sip of his drink and moved his eyes to the tv screen as Johnny placed kisses along his thigh, his hands searching over his waist and stomach. Morrissey breathed in deeply and watched the progression of Johnny’s lips. It was clear what Johnny wanted to happen, but he didn’t know if he had it in him to reciprocate everything that Johnny was feeling. Johnny paused, looking up at the singer carefully, trying to comprehend his lack of enthusiasm. 

“You look tense,” Johnny said. He tactfully straightened up and moved his hands along Morrissey’s sides, shifting his position. 

“The gin helps,” Morrissey replied. His voice was distant and tight. It wasn’t the way he wanted to feel, especially not during a rare night with Johnny, but there was little he could do to stop it. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Johnny said. He took a big sip from his vodka tonic.

“What am I thinking?” Morrissey asked. He sighed, and rubbed his fingers across his forehead, as if the concept of letting someone inside his head physically ailed him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone,” he said finally. 

Johnny leaned back against the headboard, taking another drink. He couldn’t relate, of course. He’d been having constant sex with Angie since he was fifteen. And then there were all the trysts with Morrissey. While he told Morrissey he hadn’t expected exclusivity back when they had first started getting together at the start of The Smiths, he had known all along that Morrissey rarely saw anyone else. He made it quite clear he had wanted no one else. 

It had made every touch so much more meaningful. Early mornings in hotel rooms. Wandering hands and stifled gasps in the back of the bus. Silent drives across town in the middle of the night whenever a call came for him to come over. White sheets and blindingly pale skin, dark hair in contrast, trailing down his body. Morrissey ripping at his clothes, ravenous, biting his bottom lip when they kissed, as close as possible never being close enough. Those cheeky smiles, limbs draped over each other in post-coital bliss. It had been new to Morrissey, the concept of fitting with someone. Musical chemistry. Personal connection. Sexual compatibility. He was in love within minutes. Johnny had torn it all down. How could he expect Morrissey to recover from it? Even the thought of it was foolish. 

“Just some time to ease back into things would be helpful,” Morrissey said. 

It was difficult to articulate the way it felt going from those years with Johnny back into emotional and physical oblivion. He found it more difficult than ever to consider the idea of being intimate with someone, of sharing so much of himself and his life, of putting himself in someone else’s hands. The thought of it rattled him slightly. He didn’t think it would be possible with someone else, someone who wasn’t Johnny- which slimmed his romantic and sexual prospects considerably. 

“It’s okay. You don’t need to look at me like that, Moz. It’s understandable.” Johnny’s heart sank at the singer’s expression, but he knew very well that he deserved to feel badly for what he had done to Morrissey. He pursed his lips and looked over at the balcony, getting up out of bed and holding his hand out to Morrissey, clutching his drink. 

“Come on. Some fresh air will do us good.” 

He led the way to the balcony of the hotel, which Morrissey had briefly stood at upon his arrival, then promptly forgot about. Now Johnny was stretching out on the outdoor furniture, admiring the view. Morrissey sat next to him on the couch and wrapped his arm around the younger man, holding him close. The night was hot. Johnny could feel himself sweating, and the heat made his nerves run wild. 

“It’s never rained when I’ve been here,” Johnny commented. He felt stupid for saying it the second the words left his mouth, but it was an attempt at calmness. He took a big sip of his drink, and Morrissey copied his movements. They talked quietly for some time, drinking, looking ahead resolutely in order to avoid thinking of the past. 

Morrissey turned his face towards Johnny’s, pressing his lips against his hair. “It’s not that I don’t want you, Johnny,” he said quietly. 

“I’m worried that I’ve made you uncomfortable. It’s not my intention at all,” Johnny replied. “It may have been wrong of me to just show up like this on you… I’m trying to be fair to you, you know, leave you alone to deal with things- but, god, it’s hard,” he explained. He rubbed his hand over his face and turned to look at Morrissey, covering his hand with his own. “I know things have changed for you, Moz. And I guess I haven’t changed at all… Still running to you when something’s gone wrong,” Johnny laughed. His voice caught slightly, and Morrissey frowned, squeezing his hand.

“I’m glad you’re here, Johnny. I’m still trying to recover, that’s all. There’s so much going on… Emotionally, mentally, physically… I feel everything or nothing sometimes. You know it helps me to see you. It always has,” Morrissey said, but his tone was dark. He finished the rest of his drink, facing Johnny’s blank expression. 

“It doesn’t stop me from wanting you,” Morrissey admitted. “I’ve not mastered the art of self-preservation just yet… I couldn’t possibly think of anyone else; whether it be when I see something and wish I had someone there to share it with, or alone in the dark with my hand under the sheets… I don’t think I could stop, even if I wanted to”. 

And he kissed Johnny then, because he could feel the younger man’s mind working against them, and because he was slightly drunk, and it had been too long since he’d kissed anyone who really knew him.

Johnny kissed back hesitantly, undoubtedly attempting to overcome the alcohol he’d consumed to get his mind straight, but relented as he felt Morrissey pulling him closer with a soft gasp against his mouth. Johnny closed his eyes and let the familiar patterns take hold, their bodies moving together by habit. He could feel Morrissey’s cheeks flushed against his face, spreading down his neck and chest as they kissed. Johnny still remembered the first time he’d felt it, how he didn’t think it could be possible for him to be any more endearing. 

Johnny leaned back slightly, moving his hands to hold Morrissey’s face, blinking slowly and looking at him seriously. Morrissey could probably feel his pulse quickening before he even opened his mouth. 

“I still love you,” Johnny said. 

Morrissey’s throat tightened. He fought every impulse to panic, to say something stupid, to deflect from what Johnny had been saying to him for years now- which would make no difference in his future. Too hard to swallow. Too long to forget. 

“Nothing’s changed,” Morrissey said quietly. 

He tried to smile but his face remained blank. Johnny kissed him softly and rested his forehead against the singer’s shoulder. He wasn’t embarrassed to tell him that. He was proud to love him so strongly, for so long. He just wished he wasn’t the reason behind a large portion of Morrissey’s unhappiness, though he swore he’d rather be unhappy and alone instead of never loving Johnny. Morrissey kissed Johnny’s hair again, brushing his face against the short hair. He laughed and leaned away, untangling himself from Johnny.

“God, that feels strange”, he said, taking another sip of his drink.

Johnny shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair.“It was stupid, I know. Impulsive decision as a result of stress I suppose.” 

Morrissey drained the rest of his glass to hide his laughter. 

“You’ve gotten quite good at taking your liquor,” Johnny grinned. 

“I had a good teacher,” Morrissey said.

Johnny laughed and let his hand drop from his too-short hair. 

“Come here, I know a good stress-reliever,” Morrissey offered, pulling Johnny into his lap.

Johnny smiled and straddled him, wrapping his arms around the singer’s neck as Morrissey settled their bodies closer together. Morrissey kissed him deeply and sucked on his bottom lip before breaking the kiss. Johnny licked his lips, tasting the gin Morrissey was drinking on his tongue. Morrissey raised his eyebrows haughtily, watching Johnny. 

“Very good,” Johnny commented breathlessly.

He leaned in for more, pressing himself against the singer. They kissed for a while, teasing each other, half-drunk and half-reacquainting their bodies. Despite the exhaustive regime Angie had him on, Johnny was turned on so quickly whenever he was with Morrissey. The chemistry was undeniable, the love he felt for him so overwhelming. 

Morrissey had gone a long time untouched before he met Johnny, and those days had returned again for the majority of the time, save a few regretful one night stands over the last four years. The only person he had ever really wanted to be with was Johnny. That was who he thought of, who he wanted, who he felt best with. With time it only grew stronger, and he fought to repress it. 

Johnny rolled his hips against Morrissey’s, bearing down against the older man, his mouth opening in arousal when he felt the beginnings of an erection beneath Morrissey’s shorts. Johnny moaned, pleased to still be able to turn him on, and was sucking at Morrissey’s neck as he was grasped by the waist tightly so Morrissey could grind their bodies together, both of them getting harder in the process. 

“You still want me?” Morrissey asked teasingly, trying to keep his voice level as he held back from moaning.

“How could I not?” Johnny answered. “I’ll want you for the rest of my life, Moz. All the good stuff was with you.” 

If he had been sober, and not distracted by Morrissey’s hands moving down his body, he would have had the foresight to know that was a very unfair thing to say to Morrissey. Johnny didn’t realize the consequences of what he had said. It was true, and he meant it, but it was like a knife in the singer’s heart- the fact that he could admit it, but still not do anything about it. All that love laid to waste. Morrissey breathed in sharply, which Johnny interpreted as a sign that he was ready to take things further, and kissed across his shoulders, leading his hands down his body. 

Before Johnny could undress him, the singer stopped him. He didn’t meet Johnny’s eyes when he told him that he wanted to move back into the bedroom. Johnny got up quickly, picking up his drink on the way.

Morrissey excused himself to the bathroom and avoided his own reflection in the mirror, feeling his heart in his throat. He splashed water on his face, his lips swollen from kissing, and tried not to think of the bottle of Valium in his bag. Johnny sat on the edge of the bed, having taken his shirt off, and took another sip of wine, feeling completely relaxed. He was glad he had made the decision to come see him. Morrissey had always made him feel like his heart was in the right place. When Morrissey came out of the bathroom, there was something subdued about him. Johnny joined him on the bed, kissing along the singer’s jaw lightly. 

“Still can’t leave any marks behind, yeah?” Johnny asked, his lips against Morrissey’s throat. 

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to,” Morrissey reasoned.

Johnny raised his eyebrows, leaning back slightly. “Really? You never wanted any marks on you when we were in the group.”

“That’s because I was trying to protect your marriage,” Morrissey laughed. He sounded bitter and he knew it, but he let himself say it anyway. “People close to the band would have noticed love bites on me, which would arouse a fair amount of suspicion seeing as it was very well known that you were the only person I spent time with.”

“You’ve stopped trying to protect me now, have you?” Johnny laughed. “Those other people you’ve been with have actually done me a favor. Who would have guessed,” Johnny said dryly. 

“You’re not allowed to antagonize me for sleeping with other people. You’re married, for god’s sake.” 

The alcohol could do nothing to dim the malice in his voice. Usually Johnny would falter here, say in a hard tone that he couldn’t talk about his marriage or the conflicts that came with it to Morrissey. But he didn’t see much reason to any more. His relationship with Morrissey was what broke up the band. It continued to haunt him as he tried to establish himself post-Smiths, and by now, it was clear he could not escape it. 

“I can’t compete with someone for you, Moz… I couldn’t fucking bear it,” Johnny told him. 

“Aren’t you lucky,” Morrissey replied, incapable of masking the tremendous amount of pain in his voice, “That you’ll never have to.” 

He brushed Johnny’s hands off of him and got up from the bed. He couldn’t leave his own hotel room. There was no where for him to go, no one for him to turn to except the one person who kept tearing open old wounds that never would heal properly. 

“Fuck,” Johnny exhaled angrily. He moved to the edge of the bed while blood pounded in his ears. “Steven- I… I’m sorry. Come here.” 

Johnny caught Morrissey’s hand and pulled him back over, and he sat on the edge of the bed. He didn’t struggle against Johnny’s grasp. It was pitiful. No matter how hurt he felt, how horrible it was to remember with perfect clarity despite the passage of time that yes, Johnny chose Angie over him and would never change his mind- he couldn’t make himself move away from him. The space he filled in his heart was far too great. 

Johnny struggled to find something to say. He was sorry that it was the way things were, but he couldn’t change it. He was sorry he brought it up, but it was true. The thought of Morrissey with other people made him sick with anger and regret. He knew it wasn’t right for him to expect Morrissey to live his life just waiting for his ex-bandmate to drop by. He didn’t want Morrissey to do that, but he wasn’t capable of letting him go either. 

Being with Morrissey was such a personal, private thing, so far beyond words. It had taken a long time for Morrissey to be open and intimate and trusting. He’d hate for someone who didn’t really care to come along and wreck things. Morrissey deserved to be loved by someone who loved him. To be loved completely, fully, and attentively, by someone who really knew him. The only person Morrissey felt that way about was Johnny. It was the way things were. He tried to change it, being untrue to his heart and his feelings, and it only hurt worse. 

“I’m lonely, Johnny… I can’t live like this anymore,” Morrissey said. His voice was choked with tears that he would not release. ”I’ve tried nearly everything to not feel like this, and nothing worked.” 

“I didn’t mean…I-, God, I never wanted you to feel like this,” Johnny said, tripping over his words. “I know I can’t act like I’m entitled to having you to myself. I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to say… You know I want what’s best for you. I’ve just, ah…”. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, taking a deep breath. “I’m not doing well at all without you… I don’t like the life I’m leading. I don’t like myself or the people I’ve surrounded myself with,” he said quickly. “I thought… I thought I could fix things after I broke up the group, but there was just too much that stemmed from my own issues. They’re my problems to deal with. I don’t mean to lash out at you about it, and I certainly don’t mean to make you feel worse… I’m sorry, Morrissey. I just don’t know what to do.” 

They could spend all night talking about how they never wanted to hurt they other, but it had happened and it continued nonetheless. Nearly every issue they had came from their relationship. They had been going in circles for years now with those discussions. It would reach point one day when they would be too sick and too tired of putting themselves through such pain, and put an end to it, but the time hadn’t come yet. 

Johnny felt Morrissey’s eyes on him and placed his hand tentatively on Morrissey’s waist, watching him through tear-filled eyes, his throat thick with emotion. Morrissey put his arms around Johnny’s shoulders and pulled him down against the bed and kissed him gently. 

“Stop it,” Morrissey said quietly. “You’ll be alright, John. You can’t know how things will turn out in the future. Let it happen. We can’t go backwards.” 

Johnny shook his head, feeling the tears running down his face before he realized why he was even crying. He pressed his face against Morrissey’s neck and let it out, with Morrissey’s hands rubbing his shuddering shoulders reassuringly. Johnny leaned back, taking a deep breath, and Morrissey held his head in his hands, kissing his chin and his cheeks and his forehead gently. 

“You’re okay, honey,” Morrissey whispered. Their lips met again, this time instigated by Johnny, who felt himself calming down slowly. 

“Are you?” Johnny asked.

Morrissey laughed and shrugged his shoulders. It was a permanent state. “I just try to keep moving forward professionally and it’s nearly enough. I can’t cure world hunger, nor my own neurosis,” Morrissey said, self-deprecating as usual. Johnny grinned in spite of things. Some things never changed, indeed. 

“You always could make things feel less deadly-serious,” Johnny laughed. 

“We’re all gonna die one day, love. Shall we live while we can?” Morrissey asked.

Johnny smiled as he kissed him, pulling Morrissey on top of him. Morrissey sighed against his lips, and Johnny could feel him smiling too, his hands in his hair. Johnny moved his hands down Morrissey’s back, gripping his ass playfully, and Morrissey laughed, breaking the kiss to look down at the guitarist. 

“There’s the Johnny Marr I know,” he said. 

Morrissey reached for his gin and took a big sip, right from the bottle, then handed it to Johnny, who did the same. 

“I’ve missed this more than I can say,” Johnny replied, propping himself up on his elbows. 

“I’ve tried to terms with it,” Morrissey said. “Moving forward and all. We couldn’t keep it up forever. I’m just glad we can still do this…” Morrissey blushed, leaning in and kissing Johnny. 

“I am too,” Johnny smiled. 

He pulled Morrissey down against him and they kissed, their mouths still burning from gin, tongues and limbs tangling together. Johnny had Morrissey stay on top, controlling the pace. He remembered him saying that it had been a long time, so he tried to be careful and loving with his movements. Morrissey got up after trailing kisses along Johnny’s neck, his hand moving indulgently to stroke his cock as he looked down at Johnny, who put his arm behind his head, watching Morrissey with obvious enjoyment. 

“Are you really going to make me wait?” Johnny asked petulantly.

Morrissey laughed and shook his head, like he was willing to wait, and took off his shorts. He ran his hands along Johnny’s thighs and Johnny’s eyes followed his hands eagerly as Morrissey undressed him. 

“Have I mentioned you are looking incredibly well?” Johnny asked, settling back against the headboard as Morrissey straddled him. “Very, very fit,” he noted, looking over the singer’s body. 

“They say I’m changing,” Morrissey noted dryly. 

Johnny laughed, keeping his eyes down as he settled himself against the singer, whose thirties had brought on a muscular physique. He had changed, yes. But some of it was for the better. Johnny trailed his fingers along the v of Morrissey’s hips and looked up at Morrissey almost shyly, holding eye contact like he wasn’t dying to kiss every inch of him. They were both flushed and impatient. It had been a long time since they were together, and Johnny couldn’t wait. Morrissey recognized his partner’s characteristic impatience, and grinned. 

“Touch it,” Morrissey said, offering permission.

Johnny moved his hand along Morrissey’s cock, watching Morrissey’s eyes close with a soft moan. Johnny was impressed, Morrissey was completely hard and leaning into his touch, watching as Johnny cupped his balls with his other hand. 

Morrissey leaned in closer and kissed him, gasping against Johnny’s mouth as he went a little faster. Johnny asked for lube, and Morrissey complied, his chest heaving as he reached over into his bag and pulled out a small tube, handing it over. Johnny squeezed some onto the head of both of their cocks and each of them spread it for the other, kissing between moans. Johnny thrusted his hips up against Morrissey’s hand and bit at his bottom lip lightly. 

“You never did like to wait,” Morrissey laughed. 

He lowered himself onto his side and they continued to touch each other while they kissed, breathy moans between them. 

“I want you tonight… However you like,” Johnny gasped as Morrissey’s tongue moved over his nipple, sucking at the sensitive flesh. 

Morrissey shifted positions and kissed Johnny hard as their bodies moved together, need and love and passion filled to the brim in each of them. 

“Now?” Morrissey asked, rocking his hips against Johnny’s to make his point. 

Johnny nodded, his cheeks flushed a deep red by now too. Morrissey knelt on the bed and poured lube onto his fingers, rubbing Johnny’s entrance gently to prepare him. Johnny moaned, his head falling back against the pillow as Morrissey touched him for the first time in over a year. He started to finger him, careful to take things slow, kissing along his body. 

“Use your hand, baby,” Morrissey said, adding another finger. 

Johnny moaned, stroking himself, gasping against his partner’s lips when Morrissey leaned in to kiss him. Morrissey took his time in preparing him, curling his fingers to hear those desperate moans, familiarizing himself with Johnny’s body once again.

“Oh, fuck me,” Johnny said in a tight voice. He was too hard to wait. 

Morrissey applied more lube to himself and looked over Johnny before he started. He was raising his legs, opening himself up to him. Morrissey leaned in close, feeling his throat tighten with emotion as he prepared to thrust in. 

“Tell me what I want to hear,” Johnny said softly. He had wrapped his legs around Morrissey’s waist, and pulled Morrissey closer to him so that their faces were inches apart. 

“I love you, Johnny,” Morrissey whispered. 

He kissed his former guitarist on the lips and thrusted inside of him slowly, savoring the feeling as he filled him fully. He stayed still for a moment, moving his hand along Johnny’s chest, allowing Johnny to accommodate himself, then pulled out and pushed in again with more force, groaning. He started off slowly, leaning in to kiss Johnny as they went along.

When he felt comfortable enough, Johnny shifted his position, bringing up his legs higher, allowing Morrissey deeper. Johnny moaned, his head falling back against the pillow in pleasure. Morrissey picked up the pace as Johnny moaned, maintaining the deeper thrusts, keeping their bodies close together. He could feel Johnny’s fingernails digging into his back and groaned, breathing heavily. Johnny moaned over and over as Morrissey went hard and deep for a few moments before slowing again, pulling out slightly then pushing in again in well-measured movements. They were both panting, and Johnny kissed back hard, pulling Morrissey as close as he could. 

“Please keep going just like that,” Johnny pleaded. 

Morrissey pulled back and rubbed the tip of his cock against Johnny’s entrance, gasping teasingly as Johnny moaned and closed his eyes before thrusting hard and deep, holding Johnny in place.

“Oh, Morrissey,” Johnny groaned as Morrissey picked up the pace. “Oh, God,” he gasped. Morrissey groaned, so turned on from watching Johnny come undone underneath him, and Johnny’s eyes moved over his body, watching the singer fuck him. 

“You look so good, baby. Fuck. You feel so good,” Johnny gasped.

Morrissey was panting, holding onto Johnny tightly, trying to keep it together. If he wanted to last he had to change positions. He slowed to a stop and kissed Johnny breathlessly. Johnny’s chest was heaving as he ran his hands through Morrissey’s hair.

“Turn over,” Morrissey said in a low voice. 

Johnny did what was asked of him, and felt Morrissey’s lips and hands move along his back gently, making him shiver despite the heat.

“I’ll take good care of you,” Morrissey said.

“I know you will,” Johnny replied.

Morrissey applied more lube and rubbed his cock against Johnny’s entrance, hearing Johnny groan. He rubbed his hands down Johnny’s lower back again, squeezing his waist, gripping his arse, grinding against the slighter man’s body, making him wait again. He finally thrusted in, entering him slowly, moving his hand along Johnny’s back to reassure him that he’d be careful.

He was gratified with a loud moan from Johnny as he filled him completely, pressing against his prostate. Morrissey wrapped his arms around Johnny, going deeper, rolling his hips and grinding against him. Johnny moaned desperately, pressing his face against the pillow, every nerve on fire. He could feel every inch of his singer against him, his strong arms wrapped around him tightly, and heard him gasping and moaning above him. 

Morrissey started a slow and deep rhythm, gasping as Johnny continued to moan with every thrust. Johnny moaned his name and asked him to go faster, and Morrissey obliged, raising himself up onto his knees to go faster and moaning with Johnny as he did so. 

Johnny was gasping, on the edge of climax without touching himself yet. Morrissey grinded against him, pressing against his prostate, and Johnny moaned louder for a moment, his body shaking underneath Morrissey as he finally stroked his cock, ready to burst. He notified Morrissey of his release as he moaned the singer’s name, groaning loudly as he came. 

“Fuck- oh, fuck,” Johnny gasped. Morrissey stopped thrusting but didn’t pull out, kissing Johnny’s shoulders as he caught his breath. Morrissey grinded against Johnny gently, making him jump slightly. 

“I almost came from listening to you,” Morrissey told him, rubbing his back.

“Christ. I’m still hard. Give me a minute then I want you to keep going.” 

“I need to watch this time,” Morrissey insisted, pulling out and turning Johnny over, shifting positions. Johnny was flushed and grinning, his body covered in sweat and semen, still trying to catch his breath. It felt like forever since he had gotten fucked, and Morrissey certainly knew what he was doing.  
Morrissey kissed him eagerly, feeling Johnny pulling him closer. 

“Do you want me to do it again?” Morrissey asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“Oh, I do,” Johnny said breathily. 

Morrissey helped him shift positions, applying more lube to both of them before entering him slowly. Johnny’s head fell back against the pillows as Morrissey thrusted in, and Morrissey brought their bodies closer together, kissing his neck, going slow and deep. He reached to touch Johnny’s cock and kissed his ear. 

“Do you want it?” he whispered. 

“Oh, Steven,” Johnny groaned, running his hand through his hair. 

“Do you?” Morrissey asked.

“Yeah, I do,” Johnny said in a low voice. 

Morrissey held onto his hips tightly, thrusting harder. Johnny arched his back and moaned, reacting in a completely visceral way when Morrissey picked things up, gasping and writhing beneath him. 

Morrissey groaned, “Fuck”, in spite of himself, maintaining the same pace. 

“Just like that, Moz. Oh- baby, please,” Johnny moaned, his hands gripping Morrissey’s waist, his fingers digging into Morrissey’s skin hard. Morrissey groaned and dropped his head, resting his forehead against Johnny’s shoulder. He couldn’t stop his moans as he started getting close to climax. Johnny gasped with every other breath, his body tensing with the need to cum. 

“Oh, oh,” Johnny gasped. He started to jerk himself off as Morrissey moaned in his ear, breathless and nearing orgasm. 

“I’m gonna cum, honey,” Johnny said in a low voice. He arched underneath Morrissey, his eyes closing as Morrissey fucked him harder. “Oh- Moz, ohh,” Johnny gasped, slowing the movements of his hand as he came on his stomach for a second time, his body shaking with satisfaction. 

“Ah, fuck,” Johnny said softly, closing his eyes. Morrissey slowed until he was grinding against Johnny, the younger man’s body jerking in release of tension underneath him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done that,” Johnny laughed, looking up at the singer.

Morrissey grinned, leaning in to kiss him. Johnny kissed back lazily, gratefulness seeping from every pore. “Ah, you’re incredible,” Johnny mumbled, stretching out underneath him, dazed and grinning in pleasure, like he always used to. 

Morrissey kissed him again then pulled out and used his hand on himself, his ears still ringing with Johnny’s eager moans and gasps. He moved his hand over his chest and his stomach, cupping his balls as he stroked himself, gasping softly has he sped up the movements of his hand. He had held himself back a few times while he was fucking Johnny, so it didn’t take long for him to be close. 

“Fuck. You look gorgeous,” Johnny said in a low voice. “I can’t say it enough. If it were possible for me to be any more enamored by you, I fucking would be.” 

“Do you still like to watch?” Morrissey asked breathily.

“Only when it’s you,” Johnny grinned. He moved his hands along Morrissey’s thighs up to his hips, pulling him in closer as he sat up slightly. 

Morrissey shifted, letting Johnny take over, moving his hips to thrust against Johnny’s hand as he started touching him. Johnny kissed him as he worked him up, feeling Morrissey’s body prepare for orgasm, his moans and gasps building up quickly. 

“Come on, baby,” Johnny said softly, speeding up slightly. He held Morrissey’s eyes as his body tensed, quick gasps escaping his lips. 

“Oh, Johnny,” Morrissey moaned. 

He held onto the guitarist tightly, feeling his muscles tighten with the onset of his orgasm. “Oh, oh”, Morrissey gasped. He swallowed, ragged breathing intermixed with moans and gasps. 

He turned his face and Johnny kissed him, Morrissey kissed back hard, gasping, his teeth biting into Johnny’s bottom lip as he started to cum, moaning loudly and thrusting against Johnny’s hand as he came. He groaned as Johnny kept stroking him in the aftershocks, looking down at the satisfying pools of cum gathered on Johnny’s flat stomach. 

“Oh, god,” Morrissey groaned. Johnny smiled as he kissed him again, stroking his cock lightly to release the final drops of cum. 

Morrissey closed his eyes, his muscles aching and his body fully relaxed post-orgasm. He was quiet, his mind fuzzy with the sensation of release. He looked suddenly exhausted to Johnny, getting up from the bed gingerly. He cleaned himself up in the bathroom, bringing out a wet cloth with him. He cleaned off Johnny’s cock and his chest gently, watching the younger man’s body twitch and hearing a quiet sigh of contentment when the towel touched the head of his cock. He was understandably sensitive at the moment. 

“Thank you, honey,” Johnny said softly, sitting up after Morrissey had wiped off his stomach and chest. Morrissey kissed him on the forehead, his face and chest still flushed. 

“You’ll probably want to shower off,” Morrissey said, throwing the towel into the hamper. Johnny nodded, getting up and kissing Morrissey on the lips as the older man sat on the edge of the bed. 

“You haven’t lost a step, my love,” Johnny whispered, smoothing back the singer’s hair before kissing the top of his head. “Get into bed. You’ll sleep well enough tonight,” he said as he went into the bathroom. 

Morrissey nodded, exhausted, laying back against the mattress and closing his eyes as he listened to Johnny turning on the shower in the other room, feeling his pulse lower slowly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I too look back to them with wonder, and with other, with far different, emotions.

When Morrissey woke in the morning Johnny was wearing running shorts he’d never seen before, his body splayed across the mattress, but his head on Morrissey’s pillow. He never would’ve bothered to put his clothes back on when he spent the night during The Smiths. He had always been happy to be without clothes, unabashed in Morrissey’s company. He had loved to feel the singer’s eyes on him whenever possible.

Now, in the bright light of morning in 1991, Morrissey could see creases in Johnny’s forehead, his brutally short hair doing nothing to hide the fact that he was not as young as he used to be. He would be twenty-eight this year. Still younger than Morrissey, but it was nearly ten years since they’d met. They had both changed enormously since then, but it was difficult for Morrissey to grasp the fact that Johnny was older now. He was at the age where it had been long enough now for him to have children. He still seemed, to Morrissey, the eighteen year old knocking on his mother’s door.

Morrissey always remembered him that way- so young, impatient, desperate to move forward. He had always been so insatiable. He wanted to be going a thousand miles a minute. His boundless energy, and his easy, happy manner made him so wonderful to be around in those days. Morrissey still remembered the first times they had been together; the brightness of Johnny’s eyes, his eager movements, his pale and unblemished skin so ready to be touched. He seemed younger than Morrissey ever was. He had made him feel like time did not matter. That all those years in purgatory, his adolescence and his life before The Smiths were completely forgotten when he was with Johnny.

And now even Johnny was aging. Morrissey wished he could go back to those early days of their being together and freeze them forever, but they were long since passed, and never could return again. They had both changed, as did the world around them.

Morrissey got out of bed quietly, glancing at Johnny again over his shoulder before he closed the bathroom door behind him. He took a long shower and leaned his forehead against the tiles, trying not to think about the past. Returning to those years shook him more than he would care to admit. When he gathered himself and returned to bed, Johnny stirred and opened a bleary eye, putting his hand on Morrissey’s chest.

“I was afraid you might’ve left,” Johnny mumbled, his eyes closing again as he turned his body towards Morrissey’s.

“This is my hotel room,” Morrissey laughed. Johnny smiled as Morrissey’s hands ran along his back. He brushed his hands through Johnny’s hair, and Johnny’s lips pressed against his shoulder.

“You’ve some lovely smelling soap,” Johnny said sleepily. His face was pressed against against Morrissey’s neck. “I think I’ll steal it all when I go, if you can ever get me out of this bed.”

“You’ve got to keep using whatever it is you use,” Morrissey replied. “It’s a part of you. I used to love rolling over in bed after you’d left and finding that the pillows and sheets smelled like you. I think I’d go back to sleep smiling. Before that, I was never really aware that people had their own specific scent… Yours is intoxicating… You know, I’ve been trying to find it everywhere since,” Morrissey told him.

Johnny kissed Morrissey’s neck as the singer leaned in closer to take a deep breath. "I reckon it was all that Remy Martin. It must be embedded into my skin by this point, and now I've got you hooked on it too," Johnny laughed.

“It's you”, Morrissey said softly. His throat was tight with emotion. He had been around Johnny all day yesterday, with his scent on his sheets, but it still brought back so much of all the years past.

“If you’d like, I can just pop over your place back in Manchester and lay in your bed when you’re not around so it’ll smell like me when you get back,” Johnny offered, trying to smile.

“You can have my keys,” Morrissey said. He chose not to mention that he would be moving away from Manchester in the coming months. He could no longer bear the pressure of the city, nor the proximity to the man he could not be with.

Johnny held him closer and swallowed, blinking quickly to fight off the tears that had suddenly sprung to his eyes. It had been so long, but Morrissey still said the most touching and loving things that had ever been directed towards him. It was early, and the bright light of morning allowed nothing to stay hidden. It was the way that things were supposed to be between them, but it never quite worked out like they had thought it could.  
“I know what you mean, love… And I don’t even bother trying to find it, to be honest,” Johnny said quietly. He looked up at the singer and held his gaze. “I know I can’t find anyone that could match you.”

“I’m right here,” Morrissey told him earnestly, moving his hands through Johnny’s hair. “I’d end the tour today, John. It wouldn’t need another thought.”

“Don't say that”, Johnny said sharply. “You don’t need to entertain those thoughts, Morrissey. I know you don’t.” He shook his head at the frown on Morrissey’s face. “We’re not going to open that conversation. I wasn’t just talking about group, you know- I was talking about us.”

“I know what you meant,” Morrissey said tersely. His body language had become stiff, unhappy with Johnny’s dismissals.“But you must know that I mean it. I really do,” Morrissey insisted.

Johnny lowered his gaze and held his tongue a moment. Morrissey was succeeding wonderfully on his own. He didn’t need to be reminded. What he wanted was for the gang to be back together. To have the two of them together again. Although it was tempting to change his mind again and return to The Smiths, he couldn’t do that to Morrissey, professionally or personally.

Getting the group back together would help Johnny financially, but he could never forgive himself if he put Morrissey through the same process again. The two of them being together on the road and in the privacy of foreign hotel rooms, then Johnny returning to his home and his wife and his life outside of the group- a place where Morrissey was specifically not involved. Angie wanted it that way. It needed to be that way for their marriage to work, for the family they were supposed to be starting.

He could manage the occasional visits with Morrissey now that the group had ended, and they both attempted to lead separate lives. Johnny couldn’t lead the double-life again, being with Morrissey in the day then returning home to his wife at night, or vice versa. It wasn’t fair to anyone, surely, but it was especially painful for Morrissey, when they both knew that Johnny would always return to Angie. It had been established some time ago, and even though Johnny had his doubts, he could not turn his back on it; no matter how much he loved the man next to him.

“There could never be someone else that could ever compare to the impact you’ve had on me,” Johnny said slowly. “It means more than I could say that you’re willing to drop everything for me”.

“I love you. It doesn’t require another thought."

“Yes, and I love you enough to be unwilling to repeat the past”, Johnny replied.

Morrissey’s eyes hardened slightly at the words. He swallowed back the tight hurt feelings that rose in his throat. He was right, of course. The end had been unbelievably emotional, messy, and painful. Those nights where he reached for the phone, fearing that he would not make it to the morning unless he could see Johnny. Days spent in bed, anxiety and dread overtaking him completely, sick with longing and heartbreak. He did not see how he could possibly survive such a shock. He very nearly did not. And it still hurt, years later. Johnny could see the pain clouding Morrissey’s eyes, and lowered his gaze again.

“It's all right honey. I'm here,” Johnny said quietly.

Morrissey closed his eyes and was quiet for a moment. Johnny figured it was a sign of resignation. “For how long this time?” Morrissey asked, trying to keep his tone light.

“As long as you want me,” Johnny laughed.

“Now, we both know that’s not true.”

He opened his eyes and ruffled Johnny’s hair teasingly. “I’m ordering champagne for breakfast and you won’t sway me from it,” Morrissey said.

Johnny kissed him on the lips. “Good morning, love,” he smiled. Johnny got up and went to the bathroom and dug out Morrissey’s wallet to pay for the champagne when it arrived. He popped it with a practiced ease, straddling Morrissey’s waist with it in hand. Morrissey fitted his hands to Johnny’s hips comfortably, pressing their bodies together tightly.

“Go on, open up,” Johnny instructed. He poured champagne into Morrissey’s mouth, some of it spilling down the singer’s chest.“Oh, my mistake,” Johnny smiled. He handed Morrissey the bottle and licked the champagne off of Morrissey’s body, kissing his along his chest. Morrissey took another sip of the champagne and watched the guitarist eagerly press his lips against his skin. He passed the bottle to Johnny, who took a long sip, then handed it back.

“I forgot to ask, how are you feeling this morning?”

“Much better,” Morrissey answered, grinning. It had been eight or nine months since he last slept with someone. He leaned in and kissed Johnny, thrusting up against him. Johnny laughed and they drank more, kissing in between.

“To ending a very dry spell,” Morrissey said ceremoniously, raising the bottle to Johnny.

“I’d much rather celebrate you,” Johnny replied in a low voice, sucking at Morrissey’s neck. Morrissey moaned and put the bottle on the nightstand.

“Yeah?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Johnny nodded quickly, kissing the other side of his neck. “Mmm, yeah,” Johnny breathed, meeting Morrissey’s eyes. He felt he was best in the morning now. Relatively sober, free from thoughts about the day, open to what was in front of him. It was a good time to love someone, he thought. So he kissed Morrissey hard, bringing their bodies together eagerly. Johnny moved his hands down Morrissey’s torso lightly, his fingers toying at the waistband of his shorts. He looked up at the singer, his heart beating fast as he waited for approval.

Morrissey was quiet, his gaze unusually unfocused. He moved his hand along Johnny’s face and kissed him softly, searching for something he would not say. They kissed gently, deep and intimate, each touch filled with longing. “You never used to wear shorts to bed,” Morrissey finally said. His hands moved along Johnny’s hips, brushing against the waistband of the fabric. 

Johnny frowned, looking down his own body.“I dunno when I started to. Guess it’s just from getting older. Wanting to keep myself to myself a bit more.” Morrissey furrowed his eyebrows and Johnny added, “Not with you, of course. It’s just habit I suppose.” To prove a point, or to show Morrissey he wanted him, he reached down and slipped off the shorts he was wearing. “I’ve nothing to hide. You already know the worst of me,” Johnny noted as Morrissey grasped his waist, his thumbs brushing against Johnny’s hipbones lightly.

Johnny shivered slightly as he and Morrissey looked at each other, and his breath caught in his throat. Morrissey looked at him carefully, unbearably beautiful in the morning light. “There is no worst of you, John Maher,” Morrissey answered.

His tone was light, but definitive. Johnny’s heart ached in his chest. Morrissey was never anything but lovely to him when all he wanted was to be told how terrible he was, a reflection of how he was feeling. Johnny swallowed, trying to keep his emotions in check. He leaned in and kissed Morrissey, and when Morrissey kissed back, Johnny pushed down the shorts the singer was wearing, and began kissing along Morrissey’s body.  
Morrissey felt a sigh edging up in his throat and leaned back against the pillows, watching Johnny. He was a second from stopping him, from telling him that he didn’t have to, that it was early, that they should order breakfast instead, but he didn’t. His pride was far gone when it came to being intimate with Johnny.

The muscles in his thighs twitched when Johnny’s hands moved over the outskirts of his crotch, an involuntary sign of apprehension. Morrissey took a deep breath and Johnny looked up at him, licking his lips. Before he could comment Morrissey quickly said, with a hint of breathlessness, “Johnny- you shouldn’t.” He tried to sit up, flushed and shaky.

“I think we’ve gone a bit too far now to turn back, love,” Johnny replied flippantly. It was true that it had been a long time since he’d been with Morrissey, but it didn’t mean that he no longer thought of the moments they shared, all those years. Morrissey was probably thinking that Johnny was only doing it to appease him, which, naturally, he disliked- but Johnny missed him too much to stop.

“I can tell it’s been ages since you’ve let someone touch you,” Johnny said, skimming his fingers along Morrissey’s thighs.

“It’s not that I’m banning people from being intimate with me,” Morrissey laughed. “It’s simply a lack of interested parties.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that,” Johnny said.

“And are you going to pretend that this isn’t how you prefer me?”

“Well, I’d only say that because of how receptive you are when it’s been a while… You are absolutely endearing in pleasure… I’d hate for you to withhold such loveliness.” Johnny grinned. He leaned in and kissed Morrissey on the lips, feeling Morrissey’s flushed cheeks against his own. “You can’t blame me for wanting to do everything I can to you.”

“But haven’t you already?” Morrissey asked.

“Just drink the champagne and let me make you cum,” Johnny laughed, exasperated.

Morrissey hummed his approval just to irk the younger man, and Johnny squeezed his waist as he kissed him, making his hips thrust up against Johnny’s, arousal apparent. Johnny smiled as he leaned in and kissed the outskirts of Morrissey’s crotch, neglecting his cock, moving his hands along his stomach and chest.

Morrissey groaned, impatient now that he’d decided to let Johnny do what he wanted, entirely unsurprising. Johnny kissed the head of his cock gently, flicking his tongue out against it. He moved his hand along Morrissey’s length, feeling his cock stiffen further, and grinned when he looked up at the singer- who was watching every move with heavily lidded eyes, his hand in his hair.

“God, I wish I had a camera,” Johnny muttered, looking over Morrissey’s body slowly. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to be any more attractive.”

“You’re a fucking tease,” Morrissey groaned. His body tensed every time Johnny’s hands brushed over his thighs.

“So sensitive,” Johnny noted, smiling as he kissed the inside of Morrissey’s thigh.

Morrissey gasped at the feeling of Johnny’s teeth against his skin, as the guitarist sucked hard enough to leave a mark. A drop of precum rolled down Morrissey’s length, and he bit his lip, watching Johnny.

“So lovely,” Johnny said.

He stroked the singer’s cock and looked up at him, pleased to hear a sigh of pleasure as he touched him. Johnny shifted his position and kissed Morrissey’s cock before he started giving him head. He took him in carefully and started a slow rhythm, moaning when Morrissey raised his hips, unable to control his reaction to such ecstasy.

“Johnny, oh, Johnny,” Morrissey moaned, his partner’s name spilling from his lips sweetly. It felt so good to be able to say his name without flinching again.  
Johnny moaned with Morrissey’s cock in his mouth, feeling the singer’s leg jerk underneath him. He made eye contact with Morrissey, taking him deeper, and his body shuddered, his eyes closing as he moaned.

“Oh, honey,” Morrissey said quietly, skimming his fingers along his torso.

While he was giving him head Johnny moved his right hand lower and grabbed Morrissey’s arse, rubbing his fingers over the singer’s entrance lightly, gauging his reaction carefully to see how far he’d be allowed to go. Morrissey moaned again, lifting his hips to maintain rhythm, and gave Johnny more space to do what he wanted. Johnny took him deeper for a moment and then pulled back, looking up at his partner.

Morrissey was flushed and haughty in pleasure, so Johnny felt he could do nothing but kiss him hard, moaning against his lips and rolling over so the singer would be on top. The shift in positions allowing Johnny to grab his arse again, squeezing hard to make his hips snap forward. Morrissey grinned in response, both of them thrusting against each other, and then leaned back in for another kiss. Johnny moved slow, touching and teasing Morrissey’s entrance, feeling the singers’ precum against his hip.

Morrissey gasped and tried to kiss Johnny gently as Johnny’s fingertips brushed over his entrance, making him shiver. He reached between their bodies and stroked Johnny’s cock, making him moan, but the guitarist smiled and said: “It’ll be a miracle if I can last the next half-hour.”

Morrissey raised his eyebrows and Johnny kissed him once more, rolling over so Morrissey was on the bottom again. Johnny broke the kiss with some difficultly, panting as Morrissey’s thumb rubbed the head of his cock, smiling playfully in response to Johnny’s predication.

“All right, hands off,” Johnny laughed, pushing the singer’s hands away.

“I finally have you all to myself,” Johnny muttered, kissing along Morrissey’s body down to his cock.

“It was a long, arduous fight- with little to no resistance,” Morrissey commentated, running his fingers through Johnny’s hair.

Johnny shushed him, trying not to smile as he sucked at the mark he had made earlier on the inside of the his thigh, making the older man’s thigh muscles contract endearingly. He helped Morrissey change positions so that he was on his stomach, and Johnny breathed in deeply as he moved his hands over Morrissey’s lower back and his waist lightly, watching goosebumps appear on his partners’ skin.

Johnny kissed along Morrissey’s back, brushing his face against his lower back and kissing lightly, his hands moving to grasp his arse. Morrissey moaned softly as Johnny’s fingers moved over his entrance, and Johnny shifted positions, his lips moving steadily lower.  
He used both hands to touch him, kissing and sucking over his skin, massaging whatever skin he came in contact with. He heard Morrissey exhale breathily in anticipation as Johnny spread his cheeks and started to kiss him a little more roughly. Johnny took his time, pausing to suck and lick as much as he pleased, listening to Morrissey’s soft moans, muffled by his head being on his arm. Johnny moved his tongue over Morrissey’s entrance slowly at first, feeling his body tremble. He paused only for a moment to appreciate the singer’s reactions before he continued, burying his face into his arse and relishing him unconditionally. Morrissey was moaning and panting as Johnny started to finger him after adequately preparing him, kissing his lower back again.

“God, you’re tight,” Johnny said in a low voice. He was rock hard, and Morrissey’s affirmative nod in response made him bite his lip. Yes, it had been a long time.

“I wanna be inside you,” Johnny told him.

“Slowly, John,” Morrissey replied. He could barely keep his voice steady. Every nerve was set on fire when Johnny touched him like that.

“I know, baby,” Johnny said. “Don’t worry.”

He took his time to prepare Morrissey, using his mouth again, making sure his partner was sufficiently ready. When he was finally ready to enter him, he took a deep breath and rubbed his hand along Morrissey’s lower back reassuringly. He raised himself up onto his knees and looked down his own body, stroking his cock lightly before leaning in to hold his weight above the singer, preparing to thrust into him. Morrissey laid on his stomach and waited to be intertwined with Johnny again, the closest he’d even been with anyone. The handful of trysts with other people over the years meant nothing, not at the moment of consummation, nor afterwards. There was nothing in his life that had ever compared to Johnny, and he knew by now that there never would be. He propped himself up on his elbows as Johnny ran his hands along his spine. The guitarist went almost excruciatingly slow, rubbing the head of his cock along Morrissey’s entrance, feeling the muscles in Morrissey’s back tighten when he started to thrust into him.

Johnny groaned, “Fuck”, as he eased inside his partner, who was incredibly tight around his cock. It had been some time for both of them in that regard. He gave Morrissey a moment to adjust if he had to, bracing his arms against the mattress on either side of Morrissey. Johnny grinded against him experimentally, and Morrissey moaned, exposing his slender neck as he let his head drop against the pillows. Johnny thrusted shallowly and slowly at first, listening to Morrissey’s steady, encouraging gasps and moans. He was hitting him exactly where he wanted. He kissed the back of Morrissey’s neck lightly, remembering what he liked and what set him off. Morrissey was breathing hard and biting his bottom lip trying to contain himself, so Johnny leaned in closer and brushed back the singer’s hair, kissing him on the cheek.

He pulled out for a moment and moved up a little higher on Morrissey’s body, savoring the moment as he thrusted back into him again, the moans that left their lips at the same time. He let himself lean against Morrissey’s body, their faces close together as he began to thrust into him more deeply, grinding against him. Morrissey moaned and started gripping the headboard, Johnny groaning and breathing hard above him, keeping a steady rhythm as he fucked him deep.

“I wanna see you,” Johnny said in a low voice. “Wanna watch you cum.”

He kissed Morrissey’s shoulders and pulled out, helping the singer change positions, turning over onto his back. “Oh, my love. You’re all flushed. Are you enjoying yourself?” Johnny asked. He grinned and kissed Morrissey’s chest, wrapping the singer’s legs around his hips. He thrusted into him again, biting his lip. Morrissey’s cock was pressed up against his stomach as Johnny began fucking him again, and Johnny couldn’t resist tracing his fingers along the singer’s length.

“You’re so good,” Morrissey said softly. He reached up and wrapped his arms around Johnny’s neck, pulling him in closer, listening to Johnny gasp as his cock slid deeper into his partner. “Nothing else feels like this, John,” Morrissey said.

“I know, baby,” Johnny whispered. “It’s only me and you.”

He leaned in closer, thrusting steadily into him. Their eyes remained locked for a long time, watching each other as they worked towards climax. After a while Morrissey closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the pillows. Johnny ran his hands over the singer’s muscled upper body, looking him over like he could commit every contour of his body to memory. “You look so… Unbelievable. And beautiful. Even more so as the years go by,” Johnny told him. He was getting sappy, he knew, his mind overcome with emotion and hormones, but there were still things that Morrissey had to hear from him, had to know that he still meant all of it. He leaned in and brushed his fingers over the famous quiff, letting his hand slide along his distinct jawline, his handsome profile.

“You look like you’re in love, John Maher.”

“I am,” Johnny nodded. “I always will be.”

Morrissey smiled and laughed. He always would be too. He didn’t need to tell Johnny, because he knew. There was nothing to be done anymore other than enjoy what he was offered. He let his arms fall from around Johnny’s neck and moved his hands along the guitarist’s arms, holding his eyes carefully to let him know that he was ready for Johnny to give him everything he had, like he always used to.

“Are you tired of me being sentimental with you?” Johnny asked teasingly.

“I’d like to be fucked,” Morrissey laughed. “You can make love to me later.”

“You promise?” Johnny taunted. He flexed his hips against the singer, watching Morrissey bite his lower lip. He nodded, and Johnny grinned, moving his hands to the singer’s waist. He started fucking him quickly, pausing to go deep to change the pace before going fast again. Morrissey moaned throughout, his fingers digging into Johnny’s thighs.

“Ohh, ohhhh,” Morrissey moaned.

Johnny grinned and leaned in closer, bracing himself against Morrissey’s shoulders, allowing himself to keep up the same pace. Morrissey’s cock rubbed against his stomach, and he could feel the precum smear hot and sticky on his skin. It was hard to stop himself when he got close to climax. The way Morrissey was moaning and arching underneath him, gripping his arms and pulling at his hips, his cock hard and leaking between them, made it almost impossible to resist. His moans were starting to waver with his need, and he lowered himself against the older man, licking and biting at his collarbone, leaving bruises, sucking at the delicate skin of his neck. He needed to leave something behind, some tangible reminder that he was there. It never felt like enough to give Morrissey all that he could, it would never make up for what he had put him through.

Johnny gasped and breathed heavily against Morrissey’s neck, kissing him frantically. “Steven,” he moaned. “Oh, honey,” he whispered. His thrusts sped up and then slowed down, his body beginning to tremble as he reached his peak. He came quickly, his muscles tightening and then releasing in convulsions, his teeth biting into Morrissey’s shoulder as he tried to muffle his eager moans. “Oh, Moz. God,” Johnny groaned. He kissed Morrissey’s neck as he tried to catch his breath, his heart pounding against his chest.

“I love you so much,” Johnny said in a low voice. “Goddamn.”

“I love you too,” Morrissey smiled. He kissed Johnny’s hair and ran his fingers along the guitarist’s back, slick with sweat, his shoulders still shaking slightly from his efforts.

Johnny sighed, resting his forehead against Morrissey’s shoulder for a moment, trying to compose himself. He gave Morrissey everything he had, in music and in love. It wasn’t possible to even think of holding back with him. Morrissey had been using his hand on himself since Johnny had come, jerking himself off slowly as Johnny tried to put himself back together. The younger man kissed his shoulders and his collarbone, sucking at his nipples and covering Morrissey’s hand with his own to speed up his strokes while he did so.

“You might as well finish off the champagne,” Johnny told him as he shifted his position. He laid between Morrissey’s spread legs and took the singer’s cock into his hand, tracing his thumb along the underside of it. Morrissey grinned and reached over to the beside table for the bottle as Johnny pressed kisses along his length. He nearly busted the bottle against his teeth in surprise when Johnny took him into his mouth suddenly, making him moan eagerly for the familiar wetness and warmth.

Morrissey drank the rest of the champagne while Johnny sucked him off, propping himself up against the pillows to watch as Johnny helped him reach his climax, incorporating his hand with his mouth, listening to Morrissey gasp and moan underneath him. “You’re still quite good at this,” Morrissey said breathily. Johnny had always been the giving type, and time hadn’t changed that aspect of his character. Johnny moaned in response, humming around his cock, and Morrissey’s hips flexed involuntarily in response.

“Mmm, you’re about to make me cum,” Morrissey told him. His voice was high and tight with arousal. He ran his hand along his chest and his stomach, breathing in shakily as he neared orgasm. “Johnny,” Morrissey moaned. It was a familiar warning. Johnny hummed around his cock again, slowing as Morrissey thrusted his hips against his mouth in his need. He could taste the bitter sweetness of Morrissey’s cum as he kept going, bringing Morrissey off carefully as the singer moaned and gasped, gripping the sheets in an attempt to keep from bucking his hips against Johnny’s mouth for more. He was quiet as he caught his breath, rubbing his eyes before he looked back at Johnny.

“Was it good?” Jonny asked shyly.

“Yes,” Morrissey smiled. “Best I've had since... Whenever the last time you came 'round. Now I’m worn out.”

“You were beautiful, baby.”

Johnny got up and gave Morrissey a wet washcloth to clean himself up with in return for a soft word of thanks and turned on the shower, leaving Morrissey to his ruminations. He smoothed his hand over his hair as he looked at himself in the mirror, and wondered where all the time had gone. He would have to leave that night, fly back to New York, back to the life he led without his lover, his singer, the man who still haunted all of his dreams; his past, his future. The years had passed, and he still didn’t know how to live without him.


End file.
